press into my skin again
by Lady Shaye
Summary: She had known a lover's touch before. But this was different. This was more. / 10Rose, as always. Tag to "The Satan Pit."


A/N: Um...I really have nothing to say about this. It just kind of...came to me. Basically, in my head, they were on an adventure, and Rose got a couple of scrapes, and then they had a lovely moment, with a tiny bit of foreshadowed angst. Also, set after "The Satan Pit," which was literally the first Doctor Who episode that I ever saw that SCARED ME TO _DEATH_. Yeah. Um. That was it, that was my whole damn idea. :) Hope you like it? *hesitant face*

_Summary: She had known a lover's touch before. But this was different. This was more._

_Pairing: 10/Rose_

Established pairing, loves.

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_press into my skin again – Radical Face, "Welcome Home"_

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She had known a lover's touch before, become consumed by it, loved it, sought it out, breathed it in and touched back. But this was different. This was more.

His fingers scraped across the raw flesh of her hip gently, but despite his tenderness she still had to shake away the urge to flinch at his sensitive touch, thanks to his lovely cold touch and the burn still aching on her waist. It still hurt. Slowly, he lowered his head down to her thigh and pressed a kiss to the top of her leg, just where her pelvic bone ended and soft, smooth skin began. The kiss was short and chaste and meaningful and quiet, just cold lips on her warmth, and she remembered the sensation of falling, suddenly, with no warning. Like he was a cliff, leading down to something vast and endless and one-way, and she was just an unknowing, curious passerby drawn in by the urge to jump. The basic human instinct…to fall.

Yes, that summed it up quite nicely.

She arched in pleasure as he lowered his mouth down to the spot just above her knee, where another wound screamed its pain—but she ignored it for him, he was much more enjoyable than attention paid to a new throbbing injury any old day of the week—and licked his way around the skin surrounding the bloody flesh. The wound glistened in the light of the lamps in the room next door that glowed underneath her closed door, casting a moonlight-like ghoulish appearance around the room. It looked…fascinating. But he looked more so as his tongue gently probed the gentle healing skin around her wound.

Yes, this Doctor had a certain propensity towards…licking things. And she definitely did not mind it at the moment. Or at all, ever. She held back a moan, not of pain but of pleasure.

Her pain was her pleasure. And he was her ache; he always had been.

He always would be, and all she wanted was for him to keep touching her. Anything for their skin to remain in contact. Anything to know that they wouldn't lose each other.

You see, the worst part of falling was you didn't know if you'd get lost in the end, if the ground would come up too suddenly, if you'd get caught or not. She wanted him to catch her. She believed that he would try to the best of his ability. But he was the Doctor, and things happened around him, and people died, and she'd be a fool if she didn't think that one day they'd be separated or she'd be killed on one of their lovely dangerous adventures.

His skin brushed across hers, a light whisper of excitement and secrecy and wanting, as his lips hesitated over hers, ghosting across her with a slight tentativeness. She reached up and captured his mouth as her hostage, taking the initiative like Rose Tyler had always done.

Because sometimes the fall was worth the risk. Sometimes you just had to let go and hope you'd be caught. Sometimes you had to believe in people—and there was no one to believe in quite exactly like the Doctor, because even if he wasn't always successful, he was always the most determined.

At the very least, she knew that he'd try. And that was enough for her. "Hold me," she whispered after the act was done, and he didn't leave. He never left. He never would. He had promised her and she trusted in his promises—not due to naivety, but to experience. The Doctor didn't always keep all of his promises, but he tried a damn sight harder than most. She turned over and curled up in his arms, back pressed to his hard muscled cold comforting chest.

"Always," he murmured into her ear from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and letting them fall into an easy, silent sleep. His breathing echoed and was the last thing she heard before she slipped into a deep sweet dream involving him.

Subconsciously, she shifted in her sleep so that their positions allowed not the slightest bit of air between them. The scarce inch from before quickly vanished underneath heat and skin and touch. He smiled in his sleep, and she murmured in hers, mostly his name and_ iloveyou_ and _don'tstoptouchingme_ and _why'reyousodamncold_…half-asleep little whispers, and that was part of what he loved about her.

Apart from everything else, that is, because he loved every single bit of Rose Tyler.

Physically, he knew they were just a bunch of atoms vibrating and buzzing, but with her…he felt still. He felt like they weren't moving, like time had frozen. She made everything stop when her touches lingered. That was a small part of another thing that he loved about her; her ability to help him, to love him, to believe in him, to calm him, to make him able to love again, and to inspire him.

"Mm, love you too," he murmured into her ear after she had said it more than once in one of her rather lovely dreams—he would know, she had told him about them quite often for…inspiration, and they were recurring, of all the luck—and she smiled in her little half-asleep state as he pressed a soft kiss into her back, just above her shoulder blade.

They slept and dreamed, peaceful and touched both physically and emotionally.

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A/N: Plot what plot. Review?


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